Tron: Deresolution
by Darktiger09
Summary: Welcome to The Games. The objective? Get out alive. A rebel program is captured and forced into the Games. They must fight to the top if they want to live to see another cycle. But sometimes freedom comes with a price...
1. Welcome to The Games

**Greetings! Darktiger09 here with a multi-chaptered story instead of a oneshot, finally! This is set during Tron: Legacy, during the reign of CLU, after Tron is turned into Rinzler and before Sam enters the Grid. Just to let you know, this IS an OC-centric fic, however the character's gender or appearance will not be revealed until the final chapter, and except for existing cannon characters (such as CLU and Rinzler) and a very brief mentioning of two other OC's, no names will be given regarding any of the characters. This story is written from a first-person point of view until the very last chapter, where the viewpoint will switch to third person, and also; the tenses will be present-tense until the last chapter where they will switch to past-tense. I'm really going to experiment with this story, and hopefully everything will work out the way I've planned it. Other than that, the only thing I ask is that you enjoy this short fic, and possibly provide a review, so that I can better improve my stories based upon what my readers find enjoyable. **

**Many thanks! **

**~ Darktiger09~**

**Tron: Deresolution**

**Chapter One: Welcome to The Games**

I can hear the cheering before I even step outside.

I stand down below the Arena, being prepped for the Games. Four Sirens walk stiffly towards me, surrounding me and cutting off my clothing, their large, unblinking eyes cold and devoid of any compassion for a fellow program. I close my own eyes, silently reflecting on my short life.

This isn't how I wanted things to end.

Before I was caught I was part of the Rebellion- a group of programs that is dedicated to helping free the Grid from the tyrant CLU's influence. There are many other small groups of rebels, but ours is the largest and most widespread. Our programs are stationed all over the entire Grid, collecting information and doing what they can to thwart CLU's plans. All of us are like family, and when we get the occasional former Black Guard who has managed to break through the coding that bound them to CLU; we welcome them with open arms, because every program counts, no matter who they used to be.

We've had many close calls with CLU's loyal Black Guards, and the ever-present threat of the Recognizers, but none of us have ever been caught.

Until today.

All of us knew that this would happen someday, all knew that it was just a matter of time. Because no matter how much we all try to deny it, everyone knows that you can't run forever. Eventually, someone will be caught, someone will die. If you're lucky you'll be derezzed on the spot, a quick and relatively painless death.

But CLU takes a kind of sadistic enjoyment from watching those who defy him fight for their lives, and if his Black Guards can help it they won't derezz a program. They'll just knock them out and bring them here to the Arena.

CLU does this because he knows that once a program enters the Gaming Arena, self-preservation kicks in, and they'll fight like they never have before, all previous thoughts and ideals of removing oneself from the equation, and laying down one's life for the greater good; all of that is gone, and only a sadistic killer driven by instinct is left in the place of a once-noble program.

And the same rings true for me. Because now, my only option is to kill, only I am no longer protecting fellow programs. I must now fight my way to the top of a bloody and merciless ladder, where only the best killers survive.

That's not how I want to live, however it would seem I have no choice in the matter.

I glance down at my body, watching as my new suit rezzes on. I feel a faint click as the Sirens detach my old disc from my back and replace it with a new one- my new Gaming Disc. If I survive, I'll get my old disc back and be given a new set of directives and a code of advanced fighting instructions. Eventually, the more Tournaments you survive, the more instructions you receive, and if you follow them correctly; you'll stay alive.

But one has to wonder if that is really a life worth living.

I take a deep breath as the Sirens step away and walk back to their wall compartments, leaving me all alone to face my fate. I reach a shaking hand behind my back, and run my gloved fingers lightly over the edges of my disc as I wait for the doors in front of me to open.

Each agonizing second stretches by like cycles as I wait, my circuits humming with pent-up energy and anxiety. I can feel my whole body begin to shake slightly, and in an attempt to try and release the energy I begin pacing back and forth, clasping and unclasping my hands, biting my lip until I can taste tangy data trickle across my tongue.

Finally, after what seems like a hundred cycles, the doors open and blinding light spills through, bathing me in white. I throw my hands up to shade my eyes, and my mouth drops open as I gaze out at the mass sea of chanting programs that surround the Gaming Arena. I've never seen the Games before, but I know virtually everything about it. One of the lead programs in our rebellion, Zero, is a former Gamer. He somehow managed to escape, and our head leader Klink found him lying on the brink of deresolution in a back alleyway. We brought him back to full functioning, and he taught us many things about the Games, and how to survive them if we were ever to be caught.

As I walk through the doors and into the Arena, I silently thank him. Because the only thing standing between me and certain deresolution are his instructions. I try to run over them in my mind as I walk onto the large elevator that will take me to the Gaming Levels, but my processor is too jumbled to think straight, so I abandon the attempt; hoping that when the time comes for me to fight I'll remember. Peering through the lightly tinted glass I can see other programs, and they look as frightened as I am. I scan through them but I don't see any familiar faces, and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least I won't have to worry about derezzing any of my fellow rebel programs.

I step off of the elevator and onto the Level One Gaming Platform, steeling myself as my opponent also steps on. A female voice announces my name and my opponent's name, and begins the countdown from three to one. I activate my helmet and lock eyes with my opponent- a well-built male program with an ugly scar of corrupted data running from his chin to his nose. He pulls out his disc, and I can see in his eyes that he just wants this fight to be over with as quickly as possible. And if I have my way, I will grant his wish, only the loser won't be me.

I take one last deep breath, pull my disc from my back, and activate it. It whirrs to life, its edges glowing bright blue, thirsty for combat. I smile grimly and crouch into a fighting stance, disc poised to throw. I feel a sudden surge of energy rush through my body, and my vision sharpens. I can see each detail of my opponent, every curve of his circuits, the way he shifts his left foot behind his right, the slight widening of his eyes as he realizes I am not as defenseless as he previously thought I was.

The thunderous cheering of the crowd slowly fades away into a dull roar in the back of my processor, and the only sound I hear is the hum of my disc and my own ragged breathing. My senses snaps into focus, and my awareness becomes razor-sharp as I see my opponent begin to run towards me, his feet leaving the ground almost in slow motion as he leaps into the air, disc raised. I hold my ground even as he flies towards me, getting closer and closer, until I can hear the deadly hum of his disc. Still I stand there, body tense, eyes narrowed; muscles trembling in anticipation.

And finally, just as his front leg extends to meet my face, I strike, my disc slashing across his midsection. I can see the sudden flash of brief agony cross his face before he shatters into a million bits of data and glass, his disc offlining and clattering to the floor.

For several seconds I stand there, staring in shock at what remains of my opponent before I mentally shake myself from my stupor and slowly bend down, gripping his disc tightly in my gloved hand and picking it up off the glass. It flickers to life in my hand, its neon-green color fading and turning light blue to match my other disc. I raise my head and grin, the numb feeling of horror that first gripped me at the sight of what I had done melting away as the approving roar of the crowd and the feeling of mixed relief and triumph washes over me like an intoxicating flood.

I turn and raise a fist at CLU's throne room where I know he is sitting, watching the Games with an impassive eye, cold and cruel. My defiance sends a clear signal to him, and everyone watching.

_I'm not going down without a fight._


	2. Pressing Through the Pain

**Tron: Deresolution**

**Chapter Two: Pressing Through the Pain**

After my first victory I become nothing more than a killing machine; quickly and efficiently taking down my opponents one by one, mercilessly taking one life after another until finally, five derezzed programs and four injuries later, I have now made it to the Sixth Level. The crowd is going wild, chanting and screaming my name in a crazed frenzy, and I wonder vaguely if they actually care if I survive, if maybe, my life means something to them. I force myself back to the matter at hand, tuning their cheering out and letting it become nothing more than a faint presence in the back of my processor as I focus on the program before me. I narrow my eyes, breathing deeply and steadily, studying my current adversary carefully. If I want to make it to the Final Level, I have to go through this program first, and by the looks of things that won't be an easy task.

The program is clearly female, a slender, lithe body streamlined for speed and quick attacks. Her face is covered with a solid black combat helmet, heavy-duty material made for taking hard blows without the risk of breaking. She has obviously been reprogrammed specifically for the Games, and I can feel a wave of nervousness and sudden insecurity rise up. I ruthlessly shove it down, swallowing my fear resolutely. I have to make it past her, I don't have any other choice, I _have_ to win. Winning is my only hope of making it out of here, being able to see my fellow rebels again, protecting the Grid…there is so much at stake here, more than my jumbled processor can imagine at the moment.

I slowly raise both discs, sliding my left foot behind my right and balancing my weight, shifting forward slightly, getting ready to run. All my other opponents so far have been the ones to attack me, but this program is obviously smarter. She simply stands there in a crouched fighting stance, her breathing raspy coming from inside her helmet, waiting for me to make my move

And I do.

Like lighting I suddenly dash forward, my feet leaving the slippery surface of the glass arena cage below me as I leap into the air, twisting my body and slamming a roundhouse kick into her side. She obviously wasn't expecting me to do that, as she stumbles back with a short gasp, my kick throwing her momentarily off balance. I take advantage of her surprise and swipe at her with my left disc, but she recovers in time to block my strike with her own disc and grab my arm, twisting it roughly and yanking me towards her. I use the momentum to carry me forward and behind her, and I slice my disc at her back; narrowly missing as she dodges out of the way and slams a kick into my midsection. I double over from the unexpected pain, and she uses my lapse of attention to kick me again in the head, the force of the blow knocking me down.

Falling to the floor I roll to the side just in time to avoid her disc slamming into my chest. It hits the glass instead, shattering it, and I scramble away as a large portion breaks away and falls, leaving a gaping hole in the center of the cage. I kick upwards and into her helmet just as she strikes downwards at me again, and she falls to the ground, her disc spinning a short distance away from her.

I drag my tired body up and off the glass, gripping both discs tightly, breathing heavily. I can taste my own data stream into my mouth, and a thin line of it trickles down my chin. I roughly push myself past the haze of pain and shock that surrounds me, drawing into my stance again, processor clearing.

_Time to end this._

My opponent has also recovered, and as she begins to run towards me I carefully calculate my next move. If I mess up, it's all over for me. If I can pull it off correctly however…

Then I have a chance at staying alive.

My opponent raises her disc, leaping into the air, her front foot extended in a kick. I spur my body into action and begin to run towards her, muscles tensing, getting ready for this next move. Even with her helmet on, I can tell that my opponent is caught off guard by my sudden advance, and she tries to twist her body and stop her forward motion, but she's already airborn, she can't reverse her direction in time; and dropping to my knees I slide under her kick and bring both discs up at the last moment, slashing them across her body. She immediately bursts into a shower of broken data, her disc clattering to the cage floor noisily. I fall to all fours, panting and shaking all over, my entire body trembling as the roar of the crowd floods back into my awareness.

I've done it.

_Only one more Level._


	3. Final Level

**Tron: Deresolution**

**Chapter Three: Final Level**

I stay crouched on the floor of the Arena Cage long after the my previous opponent has derezzed, my breathing ragged and loud in my own ears, systems running at their highest capacity in an attempt to cool down my rapidly overheating body. I feel exhausted, every part of my body and processor feels drained and my limbs feel like they are fastened to the floor. The scattered remains of the female program crunch underneath my knees as I shift position, and through the haze of shock and numbness I dimly wonder if I should be feeling some form of remorse over brutally killing so many fellow programs in such a short time.

After a few more minutes my shaking begins to subside, and to my immense relief the screaming of the crowd has quieted a bit, as if they are waiting, waiting for me to get back up and continue the killing.

_Either that or they are disappointed with my performance…_

I think wryly. My last fight was definitely my worst, I've suffered some damage from the female program, not a good thing seeing as I am now advancing into the Final Level, I need all my strength and energy if I am to survive.

_The Final Level. I've made it…_

The sudden realization lends me the strength to push myself off my hands and knees, and picking both my discs up I straighten my back and lift my chin, ready to face the Games once more. I set my mouth in a grim, determined line, and the crowd begins cheering again, but I resolutely ignore them; my sights set on one thing and one thing only.

_I am here to win. _

To fight my way to freedom, like I always have for my whole short life here on the Grid. But the only way I have a chance of escaping is if I make it out of the Games, and to do that I just have to win this last Level.

Then I will be free.

Unfortunately however, the program that is to be my final opponent is rumored to be the most deadly fighter on the entire Grid, and to be honest with myself, I'm not looking forward to our combat. Zero barely escape with his life, and to this day his face and arms bear the marks that the brutal program that I am about to fight inflicted upon him.

* * *

><p>I can hear the deep, guttural growling that emits from the program's helmet before our platforms even connect, and this time there is no pushing down the fear that hits me. I grip my discs tighter by instinct, as if I'm afraid they will be suddenly ripped away from me and I will be left with nothing, and I know that the terrifying figure in front of me saw the movement.<p>

_Stop being irrational, you know that isn't going to happen. You can win this, stop being afraid._

I mentally chide myself, but for some reason I can't seem to let go of my fear, can't bring myself to believe my own words. I swallow, my mouth is dry and my throat feels like it has a lump the size of my fist stuck in it, and for a few horrifying moments, simulated images of my impending defeat conjured up by my own imagination flash across my vision; images of my flying backwards as a disc slices through my body, disintegrating into millions of tiny pieces of destroyed data, my discs clattering loudly on the smooth glass…

_NO!_

I scream in my mind, shoving the images away, pushing the fear aside; the only emotion left being rage, and the sudden raw craving to _kill._ A guttural snarl of anger rips from my throat and I charge, fury lending a new strength to my body and processor as I tear towards the unmoving program standing a few paces away.

Two paces.

Four.

Six.

And clash.

Our discs collide, blue meeting red in a burst of sparks, screeching as whirring edges meet metal. We grapple, both of us unwilling to relent, pushing against the other with all our strength, locked in lethal combat; I refuse to back down even as he throws his entire weight against me. My feet slide on the smooth glass flooring, but still our discs remain locked, and to my surprise it is Rinzler that makes the move to break the stalemate. His leg suddenly slams against both of mine, sweeping the only things keeping my balance out from under me, and sending me crashing to the glass with a pained cry.

I've learned my lesson from my last fight however, and I roll to the side as Rinzler's left disc slams into the glass mere inches from my face. I kick out, hoping to catch him in the helmet like my last opponent, however he reacts with blinding speed, grabbing my leg and yanking me forward, dragging my across the glass. I manage to slash his arm with my disc, and he lets go. I flip quickly up and this time I get lucky and land a solid kick to his chest, sending him flying backwards to hit one of the glass walls that surround us.

Suddenly a glowing circle below my feet lights up, and gravity reverses itself on Rinzler and I. I'm unfortunate enough to land the wrong way on the ceiling, my back slamming painfully into the glass, thin cracks spreading out from where I hit. I flip up just in time before Rinzler attacks me again, striking downward at my head with both discs. I raise both of mine and cross them, blocking his strike, sending one of my own, he throws it to the side and slashes at my chest; I block again and slam a roundhouse into his stomach, knocking him down just as gravity reverses yet again and sends me falling to the ground, but this time I'm prepared and I land in a crouch, taking a quick moment of reprieve to sort out my muddles senses before I lunge at Rinzler; pinning him to the glass and stabbing downwards at his body, anticipating his moving to the side to avoid it.

He does, however not as I expected. Instead of rolling to the side away from me, he rolls inward, wrapping his arms around my waist and tackling me to the floor, pinning me there. I struggle briefly, but by now my strength is severely depleted, and with a sinking feeling of dread and horrified acceptance I stare up at his helmeted face, watching numbly as his disc arcs down to meet my neck.

_Just let it be quick…._


	4. Freedom comes with a price

**Tron: Deresolution**

**Chapter Four: Freedom comes with a price...**

I refuse to close my eyes, even as my impending death nears. Instead I stare Rinzler in the face, my eyes piercing through the thickly tinted plastic of his helmet, my harsh breathing mixing with his low, predatory purr. I won't give CLU the satisfaction of knowing that I'm afraid. If I am going to die, then I will do it with pride, knowing that I fought to the end and never backed down.

But still…in the very back of my processor, I feel rather disappointed in myself. I have lost the game, in more than one sense. I let my awareness slip, let my fear and insecurity get the better of me. And now that mistake will cost me my life. Perhaps cost others their lives, because I have not gained freedom. I can no longer protect the innocents of the Grid, I can no longer fight for justice.

_I have failed us all…and it is a mistake that I will die guilty of._

Suddenly the disc slams into the glass not even an inch away from my face, shards of glass shattering and slicing into my cheek, and I can feel data instantly begin to stream from the thin yet painful cuts, the stinging sensation immediately registering in my processor; and I find it rather humorous that something as small and unimportant as that manages to override any sense of terror I should be feeling over the fact that the Grid's most deadly warrior is currently pinning me to the floor of an Arena Cage. It takes me a few seconds to realize that Rinzler is looking upwards, and when I go to shove him off my body he roughly grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet, his grip bruising. I look up as well and see CLU standing in front of his throne, hands clasped behind his back; helmet retracted.

"Well fought, program. Well fought indeed." He claps slowly, his voice patronizing and mockingly kind, and I grit my teeth in anger, trying to pull my arm from Rinzler's iron grasp; but with little success.

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment? For you, well-fought generally means running like a coward." I snap, and Rinzler's low rattling purr deepens into a disapproving growl, his grip tightening even more, and my arm starts to feel like it will derezz off any moment now. CLU just chuckles, seemingly unaffected by my words, the sound reverberating around the now-silent Arena.

"You're a real charmer aren't you now? Tell me your name, program."

He says, and I glower up at him in hatred, struggling to free myself. "You already know my name. The crowd's been screaming it for the past half hour now." I say dryly, and CLU laughs again, turning to a bald program behind him and saying something I can't quite make out, the only word I can catch is my name. The program bows and scurries off, and I frown, wondering what CLU possibly could have said. My attention is rudely pulled back to the matter at hand as Rinzler shakes me, and I realize that CLU is speaking again.

"Well then, Kayden…" He drawls, giving me a lazy smirk, crossing his arms over his chest in what I see as a pathetic show of arrogance, but no doubt he perceives to it to be frightfully intimidating.

"I'd like to make you an offer. You're an excellent fighter, I must confess that I am pleasantly surprised by the level of skill you've shown. Such talent is a shame to waste upon deresolution." He pauses and smiles down at me, and I try to muster up a venomous glare to throw at him, but it fails miserably; and CLU must have noticed my lack of defiance because he continues before I can open my mouth to refuse.

"I would be honored if you would join my Guard. I need skilled programs like you to ensure that order and perfection is maintained here on the Grid. Accept my offer, and you will be given your disc back…and your freedom." His smile is cold, merciless, knowing, and I lower my eyes in a gesture of silent defeat, even though I know he can't see it.

He knows I want freedom.

I take a deep breath, slowly exhaling, my fists curling and uncurling as my anger and longing for freedom battle within me.

I want to see my fellow programs again. I don't want to die here…I've made it so far…and for what? To simply die, be derezzed like all the other programs that have entered these Games? I want to live to see another cycle. I want to continue fighting.

_I don't want today to be the day that I go down._

I take a deep breath, my gaze wandering to the silent sea of spectating programs, and for the first time since I have entered this Arena, I begin to see them for what they really are: bloodthirsty, devoid of any sense of compassion or mercy, CLU's pawns in the Ultimate Game. He has shaped them after himself, controlled them, warped them into his own twisted image.

With a growing sense of revulsion I wonder how I could ever even consider accepting his offer, ever even consider becoming one of them, and I realize that I cannot bring myself to accept the offer of false freedom, because the cost that it comes with is the cost of slavery. I will never allow myself to become like them.

_I will fight to the very end._

Raising my head I straighten my body, ignoring Rinzler's warning growl, roughly yanking my arm from his grasp and stepping quickly forward to the edge of the Gaming Platform before he can stop me, unrezzing my helmet so all can see my face.

"I will never subject myself to the false freedom you offer. Go ahead and derezz me, I would rather die a thousand deaths than to live with the knowledge that I sold my loyalties to a tyrant. I fight, for the Users!"

CLU's face is twisted into a feral snarl, his hands clenched into fists, and he stalks forward to the edge of his throne platform, shaking in rage.

"So be it, you have chosen your fate."

* * *

><p>Never before had a program so openly defied him before, and in his own Games no less! CLU was beyond rage, his entire body felt like it would explode, his circuits were burning; systems sending warning pings of impending overload to his processor. CLU ignored them, focusing all his hatred on the defiant figure below him; before his mood suddenly changed, anger abating as he inhaled deeply, folding his hands inside the long sleeves of his robe and tilting his head thoughtfully.<p>

Even before the insolent program had refused his gracious offer of freedom, CLU had already planned on drafting him into his Guard; however he had been anticipating a grateful acceptance, not such a rude disregard for the generosity that CLU had so freely given.

A pity really. It would seem that this program would require some extra breaking-in before he was fit for service…a process that CLU himself would take much delight in overseeing.

"Sir, we have made the changes you commanded to the disc." Jarvis's fawning voice cut abruptly through his musings, the program stepping up behind him a respectful distance away, holding Kayden's disc out carefully. CLU nodded in approval, turning his head to glance at the disc.

"Well done Jarvis. Rinzler, bring Kayden to me. I have a…gift for him." He raised his voice to carry across the Arena, and Rinzler quickly pinned Kayden's arms behind his back and secured them before leading him none too gently off the Gaming platform and onto the elevator that would take them to CLU. The overhead speakers announced a new round in the Games after proclaiming Rinzler the Champion of the previous round, and the crowd resumed their cheering, rebel program all but forgotten in their lust for the killing to resume once again.

* * *

><p>Kayden struggled to tamp down his growing feeling of terror as the elevator slowly began to rise upwards, but to no avail. He had a good idea as to what kind of 'gift' it was that CLU intended to give him, and in the back of his processor he begged for deresolution, anything except what was about to come; yet his desperate prayers went unheeded as all too quickly the elevator slid silently to a stop and Rinzler forced him off, firmly marching him through the doors and straight to where CLU was standing with his back to them, still gazing down at the Arena. Turning his head as the sound of the doors swishing open reached his ears, CLU allowed a tiny smile to creep over his lips.<p>

"Ah, there you are Kayden, I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive." He turned around and stalked forward towards the visibly nervous program, slowly beginning to circle around Kayden, studying him from all angles. A firm, clean jawline, bright, intelligent green eyes, well-built; perfect for the Arena Games. No wonder he managed to survive- he was practically programmed for it.

CLU would merely take his natural programming a step further, develop it, hone the already existing skills into perfection, just as he had done with Rinzler. He reached out and lightly traced a painful-looking slice that ran across the program's cheek, absently reflecting on how he could have had obtained it, then wondering even further as to why he even cared.

"You have so much potential, Kayden, so much you could do for the Grid. That's what you want, isn't it? To protect the Grid?" CLU asked softly, and Kayden jerked his head back away from CLU's touch, glaring venomously at the program standing before him. "You actually think that what you are doing is protecting the Grid? You're destroying it, CLU! You destroyed the ISO's, you've done your best to destroy any program that dares to defy you. That, my friend, is not _protecting_!"

The program in mention just chuckled quietly, inclining his head slightly in Rinzler's direction. The security program bowed shortly, releasing Kayden's arm and slipping out, boots clicking quietly on the smooth tiled flooring as he headed back towards the elevator; leaving Kayden alone to speak with CLU, who circled around him a few more times, appearing to be deep in thought; before stopping in front of Kayden and standing mere centimeters from the seething program's face.

"I have perfected our world, I have established order, I have given the programs of the Grid _freedom_! And you, my dear rebel, will help me to ensure that things stay the way I have them." He whispered harshly, all pretenses of gentleness dropping away, icy blue eyes glinting in wicked triumph.

Kayden opened his mouth to object, but abruptly cut off with a gasp as Jarvis stepped forward and swiftly connected the corrupted disc to his back. He let out a choked sound of pain, eyes widening in horror as he fell to his knees, face twisting in agony, tendrils of electricity dancing across the disc as the corrupted files contained within it began to override all of Kayden's existing data and protocols in his core processor, replacing them with a new set of directives, his memory files being painfully erased one by one, until finally he slumped to the ground; systems locking down into emergency stasis in an attempt to prevent any further corruption.

But the damage had already been done, and CLU crouched down, gently brushing dark brown hair away from the unconscious program's face with what could almost be described as a strange sense of tenderness.

"Get him cleaned and suited up, I want to see him when he's awake and functioning again." He commanded, rising to his full height and staring down at Kayden's motionless body with an impassive expression. Jarvis nodded, beckoning quickly for the two guards that stood rigidly at attention by the doors, completely unaffected by the cruel and heartless scene they had just witness. They marched forward and grabbed Kayden roughly by the arms, pulling the unconscious program up off the floor and dragging him out of the room between them without a word.

CLU turned back to the window, crossed his arms in satisfaction, and smiled with a mirth that did not quite reach his eyes.

_Nobody can fight forever._

_Not even you, Kevin Flynn. _

_~Finis_

**A/N: As I'm sure you've all guessed, I WILL be making a sequel to this, hence the reason that the ending for this is rather sudden and leaves you with a bit of a cliffhanger. The sequel will not be out until the end of the month most likely, as I am debating on how to formulate the story's plotline to fit in with the one in Tron: Legacy, with some minor changes and adjustments to the movie plotline of course. I hope that you all enjoyed this however, and keep an eye out for the sequel, which will be entitled 'Tron: Rebellion'. **

**Until then, cheers!**

**~Darktiger09~**


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